


Before the storm.

by chertenuk



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anger, Angst, Death, F/F, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Racism, Unrequited Love, but interesting, clan death, elf crap too so, solas and athelora’s relationship is weird
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 09:38:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17444408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chertenuk/pseuds/chertenuk
Summary: basically me exploring relationships amongst Athelora’s inner circle along with other general cute (and not so cute) happenings in Skyhold.none of this is canon from the universe i’m creating in my other book, this is more AU as i explore relationships etc





	1. EXPOSURE TO A FLAME.

**Author's Note:**

> my writing is messy but who cares

Athelora was furious. A dark pool of undisturbed anger was burning at her throat as she clenched her fists in distaste. Solas. The name was like poison in her throat, it clawed at her insides and fuelled the fire that burned brightly within her. A short, brief conversation with Vivenne concluded some lingering thoughts that had circled around her mind in the passing days. So once and for all she had decide to put an end to this silent feud. Solas was a traitor to his kind and a growing irritant in Athelora’s life and by Mythal was the elvhen mage doing it on purpose.

 

Let’s rewind.

 

Solas and Athelora had never gotten along, Solas may have saved her life but after talking to the apostate she soon discovered his distaste to young elves. He abandoned his culture and his people, the whole idea of it seemed to make him feel disgusted and to Athelora this was pure selfishness on his part. They argued on.. many occasions over this topic and eventually it had died down into a tenseness that appeared whenever they were in close proximity of each other. Athelora and Solas created a silent pact to not associate with each other outside of work, he would do the research and she would do the inquisitoring. This would be it if she hadn’t found out that Solas was purposefully causing drama and tensions to arise through Skyhold by outwardly disagreeing with the Heralds actions. He put everything against her just to gain a reaction and a sense of achievement. She applauded Solas because he had gotten both and as she stormed through the Skyhold palace, gaining a worried look from Varric; she contemplated her next actions.

 

“Varric. Make sure no one comes through and disturbs me and.. Solas.” Varric nodded slowly, one eyebrow raised at his loyal friend but before he could question her, he watched her slam through the door in her path.

 

“Ma banal las halamshir var vhen!” The words were spat out like cold ice, they contained pure disgust towards the elf before her; yet he didn’t dare look up. He merely snorted at her presence as he stood in front of a table overlooking the book placed upon it. His eyes never left the page as he uttered his next words.

 

“I have done no such thing.” His words calm, calculated each perfectly thought out as he continued on. “I simply see no way to help the elves, oppressed as they are now.” He turned the page slowly, his face neutral with an urge to smirk at the sight before him but this further angered Athelora. She walked up to his table and slammed her fists against the wood, it burned against her but she felt nothing but rage bursting from her chest.

 

“Ma halani! Lasa ghilan!” She was pulling at anything now, anything to get the apostate mage to listen to her, to heed her words. He finally looked up, his eyes boring into hers. The tension was thick like a smog as it swirled around the two mages, enrapturing them like a demon.

 

“How many dalish would listen?” He began to circle around the table towards her, his finger scrapping across the wood in a menacing manner. “Most care little about improving their lives.” Athelora’s frown deepened at this, offended as she was she listened on to the elfs point in a respectful manner. “They already consider themselves perfect. The sole keepers of elven lore.” Solas was now directly in front of her and she growled slightly at his words, this trickster, this taunting manner he had appalled her. He had Sera running for her money with this little show he was putting on.

 

“You could still try. But you don’t. Because you don’t care.” She pointed at his chest with each sentence to further push her point. He looked down and dryly laughed at her gesture. He swiftly grabbed her hand, applying a tight pressure that caused the Herald to wince quietly. “There is no simple solution. I think you know that. Why attack me for knowing it as well?” She pushed him off of her and created some distance to breathe.

 

“Because I WILL help them. My body flows thick with elf blood, what about you Solas?” She drew out his name in a slow manner, her glare now more powerful and demanding. The question did not ask for an answer, rather to set a tone for their relationship. Their eyes fought with each other, the rare sight of anger set within Solas’. He spat and walked back to his table returning to the book he once read. Athelora gave one last look towards Solas and shook her head.

 

“Harellan, tel'abelas.” The Herald finally spat slamming the door behind her. Unknown to her Solas had watched her passing of words with great attention, they clawed at his brain but he dismissed them with a shake to his head and the slamming of the book.

 

Athelora had awoken a storm inside of Solas and this was felt by the Tevinter from above who had been watching closely. He rushed down the stairs below him to confront his Herald, only glancing towards Solas questionably. Solas, used to the constant movement between floor levels, paid no mind to the Tevinter. Solas had sat down in his chair, rubbing his temples slowly to regain his former posture. Dorian noticed the slumped frame of his body, the usual calm figure now retreated into a stressed one. As Dorian quietly closed the door behind him he heard the soft voice of Solas mutter something under his breath, which was completely incomprehensible to Dorian due to the elvish tongue he spoke in.

 

The inquisitor and Varric were lingering outside, the inquisitor mindlessly pacing between two blossoming oak trees. He watched the seeker hurriedly approach the two as he, himself, edged towards the duo. Athelora was currently angrily muttering under her breath in a pure elvish tonguemuch like the tevinter had observed Solas do so. Varric noticed the mage and warrior approach and motioned them to an area far from the inquisitors hearing range. Seek Pentagahst nervously began tapping her foot, the sight of her Herald in such a distressed moment concerned her; The tevinter also noticed her tanned hand hovering over her weapon.

 

“Varric, explain! What is going on?” Her thick accent broke the silence, both Cassandra and Dorian’s attention solely focused on the surfacer before them who, currently, was clutching his head tiredly.

 

“Seeker lower you voice for Andraste’s sake.” He groaned and looked towards his Herald. “Athelora and Solas must’ve had a.. disagreement. You could feel the tension outside the door.”

 

“And the thick magic surging off of them. Quite a show they put on, I was half ready for them to go head to toe at each other.” Dorian spoke up, slightly interrupting Varric.

 

“You were watching?” Varric perked up, an eyebrow raised in surprise.

 

“Hard not to.” Dorian absently touched his moustache as he began to think. “I struggled to make out the elvish our inquisitor spoke, something to do with other elves.” His brow furrowed, the cogs in his brain working a little harder. Cassandra gasped quietly which caught the attention of both the dwarf and tevinter.

 

“What Seeker?”

 

“Athe- The.. Inquisitor had previously mentioned to me her - How do I put this lightly?” She cleared her throat nervously, avoiding their gazes. “Anger, for the ‘Harellan’?”

 

“Traitor.” Each 3 party members jumped at the invading voice. “Herallan means ‘traitor to the elvhen people’.” They recognised this voice to be of the much calmer inquisitor, who had been listening in on the convo for a good while now. It was eerily quiet, the new information hung over their heads like a bad omen, each member enraptured in their own thoughts. The inquisitor sighed, her eyelids shutting slowly in displeasure. “It was inappropriate for me to approach Solas like that, I hope you understand I don’t take what I did lightly and will apologise to him.”

 

Varric didn’t like it. An apology may heal the explicit wounds of the mages recent disagreement but Varric recognised how Athelora had torn into Solas like a predator to prey. This sort of massacre wouldn’t go overlooked in the long run and Varric knew the inquisitor was merely putting the three at ease. Attempting to at least. Dorian and Cassandra caught onto this too, the Seeker raised her hand and prepared her voice to speak against the inquisitor however Dorian caught her eyes and glared at her as a warning. The inquisitor took in each companion slowly, scratching the behind of right elvhen ear. Varric heard her curse in elvish as she walked off and he watched her enter the bar from across the courtyard.

 

Cassandra grunted. “We keep this between us three, okay? We don’t need others catching wind of distress in the Herald’s inner circle.” Dorian nodded promptly agreeing whereas Varric’s eyes were still trained on the bar before them. He chuckled dryly.

 

“Whatever you say seeker.”

 

——————————————————————

 

It was late.

 

So late that the bar was empty, the barkeep had left and even the Iron Bull had packed up for the night. She was alone with a glass in her hand that served a liquid drowning out her worries. Burping slightly she groaned and pushed her head further against the table in hopes of just passing out; at this point she’d lost any enthusiasm to get up and go to her quarters. Begrudgingly she lifted her head and peered into the cup before her, it lacked much liquid but she still determinedly sucked it dry hoping that even the slightest ale would knock her out. Unfortunately it wasn’t a strong ale. At this moment she heard the door open, the gentle chimes of the bells startling her and her heart began to pump at a rapid pace. Technically no one should really be in the bar this late, she’s the inquisitor she gets special treatment however rather than fearing for the worst she assumed a wanna be rogue had entered determined to prove their stealth to the likes of the Iron Bull or even Lelianna. Possibly it could of been Cassandra ready to drag her lifeless body towards her quarters.

 

Whoever it was, they observed her in a pile of her own mess. Head hung low and breath reeking of alcohol, she attempted to regain any dignity she had left by lifting her head and adjusting her hair to look somewhat presentable. Unknown to the Herald, she was currently suffering from a nose bleed. The thick substance of blood oozed out of her nose, it’s path determined to fall off of her sharp face. It’s gooey texture burned and stunk of metal. But she didn’t notice. She didn’t even notice the figure pull out a chair beside her as it scratched across the floorboard. She didn’t even notice them pull out a pure white tissue and ‘tsk’ disgustingly towards her. It was only until the figure harshly, but calmly, grabbed her face from beneath her chin to turn her face towards the figure.

 

“Dirthara-ma silly da’lan.” The piercing eyes of Solas burn into Athelora’s tired, overworked ones. The tipsy haze of the alcohol encased her and she huffed back at his insult. May you learn, silly girl. Funny one Harellan. She had no energy to fight him, argue back or even roll her eyes she just watched as he pinched the bridge of her nose with a slight pressure and placed the once white tissue underneath her nostrils. It took awhile for the bleeding to stop, it always did, but he sat there patiently and quietly; the room dead silent as though it was watching the encounter. Wether it was the drinks or her own empathy kicking in, she felt a sense of sadness around her. She caught his eyes again but he didn’t hold the stare long. He wiped her nose, getting rid of any remaining blood and then produced a flame burning the tissue into nothing. She sniffed, the bitter taste of blood still lingering. “How much have you drank?” His words blunt, sharp. While appearing to care Athelora felt as though the harellan before her was doing this out of personal gain. A sick pleasure in seeing her weaker than him.

 

“Just a few.” She tried to spit out her words in any attempt to be menacing and cold but they came out weak and soft. Athelora didn’t notice but the change in attitude within the Herald startled him. He noticed her toy with the glass before her, he watched as she grasped tightly onto it as though it was giving her life. He sighed sadly and removed the cup from her, he stood quietly and the inquisitor watched him hazily.

 

“I think it’s time you got to sleep.” She didn’t respond. Solas believed she may ignore him and pondered wether to leave the disgrace of the inquisitor for the barkeep in the morning however as observed her pointless attempts to stand up straight without stumbling, he grunted and grabbed her arm. Athelora noticed a trend within Solas, his actions weren’t as gentle as his words perceived him to be. He had grabbed her right arm roughly, out of anger? She couldn’t tell but she felt him wrap it around his shoulder and hoisted her up to her feet. She regained control as the elf apostate dragged her towards the door.

 

It was a sight to see the least. The hunched back body of the strong from rags to riches inquisitor being forcefully and begrudgingly dragged by the elvhen mage she called ‘Harellan’. Their journey to her quarters was quiet, the hum of fire filled the silence they left in their path. As they approached the quarters door, Solas struggled to juggle between her leaning body and the door handle, to make matters worse Athelora began to open her mouth.

 

“Ir abelas isa'ma'lin.” Solas rolled his eyes at her use of ‘brother’. He was no brother to her and she had even made it clear to agree with that but while in her weakest state still felt a connection to him, to the elf she claimed had ‘abandoned its people’. Once they entered the room Solas realised he had never actually been in the inquisitors quarters, while not to the comfort of his delight he noticed the minimalist design of it all. A few elvhen paintings stained the walls, Dalish banners hung against her king sized bed, a fluffy bear rug softened his feet while the quiet blow of the wind welcomed them. Solas took Athelora and place her onto the bed, to which she fell back and a large ‘poof’ sound was created. Solas stood over her confused on what to do next, this wasn’t the plan in the beginning. But as he recollected his thoughts he realised he had had no plan at all the second he stepped into the bar. “The fade may treat you well ni but it’s no place for me.” Her breath shook at this sudden confession, it was cryptic, her wording, and Solas raised an eyebrow at her. “It haunts me.”

 

“You’re just tired.” He passed off her comment, agreeing that leaving this room was better than tolerating her constant rambling. For all he knows, she could begin to recall tales from her Lavellan clan and that would kill a few more brain cells from being around her. He positioned her body correctly and comfortably against the bed and in one majestic manner, pulled the quilt against her body. He watched her now carefully. She was sleeping, passed out almost instantly once the quilt came on but a thought nagged the back of his mind.

 

It haunts me.

 

It would be stupid for him to assume that the Herald always has a good nights rest. Demons. Bandits. Nobles. A scary bunch to deal with. And as he closely noticed the stain of blood against the top lip of her mouth, he raised his hand towards her head. A green, tranquil energy erupted out of it and the flames surrounded her head. Instantly her face eased at the gesture. He could ease the nightmares for one night but that’s all he would give her. As he walked away from the bed his thoughts weighed down in his mind, he shook them away and closed the door behind him in a swift, quiet manner.

 

The lion slept soundly that night.


	2. LAVELLAN.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the clan is dead. solas attempts to comfort.

Athelora Lavellan was mindlessly making her way around Skyhold, she was proud of her work and the others around her. She’d built a community from the ground up and it was a major achievement. Happily smiling at a dwarf passing her she glanced towards a hardworking Cassandra battling away at the dummy who stood strong at her every swing. Her determination was admirable, her skill impressive and as she watched on in a trance she failed to notice a human scout of Leilanna’s approach her.

 

“Inquisitor.” Athelora span around at the voice slightly embarrassed as though she’d been caught in the act of something inappropriate. The scout stood tall, back straight and eyes sharp while a blush crept on the elvhes features. Athelora nodded respectively. “The advisors wish to see you at the table immediately.”

 

That was odd.

 

“Any reason why?” Athelora questioned, the scout shifted uncomfortably.

 

“They refused to say.”

 

Then it’s serious.

 

“Thank you.” The scout nodded and scurried off into the shadows. Athelora swallowed harshly, the elf tensing up slightly as she wearily glanced towards the steps of Skyhold’s keep. Maybe she was overreacting again? Maybe it was just a noble problem? Yet she struggled to move herself from her position as a bad feeling crept up her back. It swarmed around her and stuck her in place, she felt as though hands were grasping around her neck growing tighter. And tighter. And tighter.

 

“Inquisitor Lavellan?” She felt a soft, warm hand on her back. It was light and calming as it rubbed soothing circles on her back slow and steady, and somewhat careful not to scare the elf further. Athelora, now out of this state, jumped slightly at the touch. Letting out a shaky breath she turned to Cassandra and nodded frantically.

 

“Yes-I mean I think-I hope. Sorry to disturb you Seeker.” Athelora coldly shook off her hand as shemoved towards the war room. Cassandra stayed silent as she watched her Herald stumble forward, confused but helpless to do anything. So she turned around and waited for the storm.

 

—————————————————————-

 

Athelora put on a brave face. Took a deep breath and stepped forward pushing the door into the war room. Josephine, Leilanna and Cullen all looked up at the sight of the inquisitor entering the massive room. Their faces each conveyed different emotions. Fear. Sympathy. Worry. Athelora laughed nervously.

 

“So what’s going on now? Don’t worry, the inquisitors here to save the day.” She waved both hands sarcastically making any attempt to hide her anxieties. No one laughed. Her hands fell in defeat and she watched Josephine glance towards her advisors and then back at Athelora.

 

“You may want to sit, Inquisitor.” While she didn’t stammer during her sentence Athelora noticed her use of words contained hesitation, she was scared. Athelora frowned.

 

“I can stand.” Short. Sharp. She was increasingly getting annoyed, the secrecy from the start worried her and now the increasing silence on the advisors part struck a cord in her. She stepped forward towards the table however before she could get further Cullens hand darted towards the weapon on his side. He clutched it tight but didn’t remove it. Athelora’s eyes whipped towards his hand and then to his eyes, she growled loudly lifting her hands from the table; preparing herself. It was silent. “Is there a problem.. Commander?”

 

“Cullen.” Leilanna pressed a hand to his chest, pushing him backwards defensively. “Don’t agitate her or yourself.” Cullen and Athelora were stuck in a death stare, Leilanna groaned she looked back to Athelora mouth slightly opening at the sparks beginning to develop at her fingers. “Athelora!” Athelora jumped at the sound of her voice and disengaged her magic. Cullen appreciated this and slowly let go of his weapon, a grunt escaping his lips. No one spoke again.

 

Leilanna looked between the advisors who had their heads hung low. She stepped forward taking lead. “Athelora. There’s going to be no easy way to say this but.. the Lavellan clan, your clan, they’re all dead.”

 

Athelora couldn’t breathe and for a moment she thought she had stopped breathing all together. She fell forward onto the table, nothing but her hands gripping on to it to keep her up. She heard her advisers scatter, their hands flutter over her body not knowing what to do. Their voices distant but full of worry and care. But none of this mattered to the elf.

 

Her clan. Her family. Her friends. Everyone she knew and loved gone from her in seconds. Why? Why her? She had saved so many lives, protected so many people and for all she did in Mythal’s name; her gods would take them away so easily. Tears threatened her eyes but she didn’t want to cry in front of her advisors. So, she pushed herself against the table and waved her advisors away. They all stepped back watching carefully their hawke like eyes watching her every move.

 

“Inqui-“ Cullen began but Athelora raised a hand at him, he stopped almost instantly.

 

“Please don’t.” Her gaze softened as she looked to him. “Not right now.” In a stride, she walked out the room with a slam to the door. She didn’t stop, she didn’t know where she was going but she had to leave Skyhold. It was suffocating her slowly. As she walked through the hall of the keep she felt a few tears escape. They were salty and burned against her elvish skin, she brushed a hand against her cheek uselessly attempting to wipe them away and hide any pain. Her anger began to control her as her steps grew heavier and her mind sunk deeper into dark territory.

 

Oblivious to her, she had stormed past Varric and Solas having a pointless argument. Varric noticed her first. He was mid way through telling Solas that he was only joking when he said he was going to become a ‘fade monster’ to ‘test it out’ for a new book. Solas responded by lecturing him of the dangers of his ‘irresponsible choice of words’. He took offense. And as Varric opened his mouth his eyes caught the sight of his dear friend hunched back making quiet noises that sounded like sobs. He stared intently and Solas frowned at him.

 

“Varric. What are you-“ He followed the dwarfs gaze catching a glimpse of a tearful inquisitor leaving the keep. Varrics gaze then turned to Lady Josephine, who was hurriedly leaving her room and frantically looking around. Solas followed his gaze towards the Lady and then returned it back to the door Athelora had left out of. Josephine approached Varric and Solas with a look of panic attached to her face.

 

“Solas, Varric. I’m sorry to disturb you but have you seen the Inquisitor walk by? It’s of utmost importance that I talk to her.” Her words were rushed and her speech fumbled.

 

“Easy, easy slow down Lady Josephine.” Varric held his hands out and swayed them out towards her in an attempt to calm her down. “She just stormed past-“ Josephine immediately set off but failed to progress further as Solas quickly grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

 

“I’d advise you explain what’s going on before running after an angry elvhen mage unprotected.” Solas was serious, deadly serious as his grip on the adviser refused to weaken. Josephine looked between the two followers and nodded quickly. Solas removed his hand and listened intently as Josephine explained the horror of the death of the the Lavellan clan.

 

“Shit.” Varric held a hand to his mouth in shock and rubbed his face in shock, Solas stayed calm and while sympathetic towards Athelora, worried about the future actions of the Dalish elf in such a state. This was the first time he had ever felt protective over her. Varric picked up his weapon, Bianca, resting on the side of his favourite chair. “Josephine, stay here. Me and Solas will go looking for her. She can’t be that far.” Solas nodded promptly.

 

“Please be quick, I-I worry what Cullen may do if she doesn’t return soon.” Varric and Solas knew all too well of the possible consequences and quickened their movement, leaving Josephine distressed and alone.

 

Once they left the keep they both noticed Seeker Pentaghast shouting at the Iron Bull while Cole looked on. Solas noticed Cole to be in a complete state of distress and advanced over quickly.

 

“Why does no one tell me what’s going on! Why does no one ever know what’s going on!” Cassandra’s screams brought more attention to the group, her hands waved uncontrollably in the air. As Varric attempted to clam down Cassandra with the aid of the Iron Bull, Solas moved closer to Cole who had now clutched his head in his hands swaying back and forth.

 

“Cole. Talk to me, what is wrong?” Solas’ voice was kept calm throughout this whole ordeal. Cole however shook more and more.

 

“Her anger is strong. Burning. Painful. The anchor reacts screeching, leaching, feeding. She’s so sad so so so sad. I feel it, it hurts it hurts it-“ Solas grabbed Cole’s sides with a strong pressure, the force strong enough to bring Cole back to reality.

 

“Breathe.” Cole did as he was told and his once ragged breaths easing into a normal state. “Good boy Cole.” Cole was still shaking but Solas managed to control him swiftly. All eyes were now on the elvhen mage as he took the stance of a leader. He turned smoothly to look at Cassandra. “Do you know where she could be headed?”

 

“Possibly. When she gets overwhelmed she walks down the bank to river which leads to a waterfall.” Cassandra clenched her eyes and rubbed her temples. “She told me the water calms her there.” Solas nodded in thanks. He looked at the group in front of him, even glancing towards the city elf, Sera, watching from the window of the bar. He sighed.

 

“The Inqui-Athelora is going to be far from stable right now.” His gaze swept from person to person. “If anything happens i’m going to need to.. restrain her.” Cassandra gasped, ready to scream in the apostates face; Varric shushed her. “Dalish elvhes are unpredictable at best, when brought with a situation so upsetting I can’t begin to imagine their reactions and their next possible actions.” The group stayed silent, they all knew Solas was right. He sighed again, heavily. “I believe it’s wise for me to approach her. Alone.”

 

A snort was heard from above. “That’s funny elf man, you’ve never shown any sympathy towards her kind and now you want to approach her about her dead kind?” Sera leaned against the wall on the roof. “Your funeral mate!” Solas cringed at the poor choice of words in the given situation but rolled his eyes.

 

“Do you volunteer yourself, city elf?” Solas’ words purposefully filled with spite warded off the prankster as she grumbled away to herself. Something along the lines of ‘old man’ and ‘stupid mages’. He looked back to the group. “Anyone else object?” While Cassandra looked as though she did, she did not mention her distaste and disgustedly turned back to her practise. One by one they left unsatisfied with the current outcome whereas Varric stayed.

 

“I’ll come looking for you after some time if.. you know.. anything may happen.” Solas reassured, thanked the surface dwarf and headed along the path to the river.

 

—————————————————————

 

The small elf was sitting by the river holding her body tight to her chest. She watched the river intently as it slowly but surely swam its path down stream. One continuous life living in one motion in co ordination with nature’s plans, the gods plans. Athelora questioned whether this was Mythal’s plan, the all loving, all protecting god had allowed this travesty to occur for a divine reason. Athelora struggled to understand what this reason may be as her body swayed against the wind.

 

“Lethallan.” Solas words interrupted Athelora’s serene scene, she refused to move her body to look at him as he called out to her. Subconsciously she moved her body closer to herself as she heard him rustle about against the wildlife. He noticed her staff rested safely at her side and noted the possibility of her grabbing it quickly. Yet while conscious of her ability to lash out he struggled to believe she would, her body was limp and her mind was tainted. He sat down next to her right, careful not to make an sudden movements. He sat with his knees up and arms crossed against them. He too watched the river run its course getting lost in the deep blue before him. They both sat there silently with their differences at peace, they didn’t share words for awhile; enjoying the once rare, peaceful scene they had caught.

 

“The last thing my Hahren said to me before I left for the Chantry was ‘Fen'Harel ma ghilana’.” Athelora dryly laughed but Solas stared distantly into the river. “I found it funny, ‘Dread wolf guides you’ kind of ironic as I was a Dalish spy in the Chantry of all places. Along side the fact I was terrified of Fen’Harel as a Da’len.” Athelora’s hands roamed the earth below her as she took in each texture of each piece of land. “The stories they told to me and the other elvish children scared me the most. I would beg Mythal to protect me from the ‘beast’, everything I did was for her.” Athelora scowled and clenched her eyes shut slightly muttering under her breath. “This is how I’m repaid.”

 

“Do you still believe in Fen’Harel?” Athelora opened her eyes and glanced towards Solas as he spoke. His eyes still set on the water.

 

“I suppose I do. Wether or not the Dread Wolf now guides me is yet to be answered.” Silencecaptured them once again.

 

“Ir abelas.”

 

“Why are you apologising? I thought you could care less for the Dalish.” Solas’ eyes widened slightly at her and he briefly looked towards her.

 

“My stance against the Dalish may not be acceptable to you however I do understand how it would feel to lose a whole clan. Specifically one that you considered family even.” Solas paused, calculating his next words. “They were proud of you.” Athelora smiled warmly. While Solas was not her favourite person he did know how to make her feel at ease. Calmer.

 

After a good half hour of sitting there Solas stood swiftly, he patted off any dirt and tapped Athelora’s shoulder.

 

“Return to Skyhold when you feel calmer, I know many are actively awaiting your return.” And as Solas slipped away into the darkness of the night Athelora looked to the sky and prayed. She prayed to Mythal and even acknowledged Andraste that night.

 

“Lasa ghilan Mythal. I feel as though my grip is weakening.”

 

After praying she got up to leave. She left the river. She left the water. And everything was peaceful for now.


End file.
